


The Long Road Back

by AshenAzrael



Series: Tea and Books [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Deus Ex Machina, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Temporary Character Death, but it makes sense cause dnd, following ep 26 obviously, post ep 26
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-21 09:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15555177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshenAzrael/pseuds/AshenAzrael
Summary: His hands worked to free himself from the cold dirt, throwing clumps away until they could find enough purchase to pull his top half out of the hole he had found himself in. He looked, eyes searching,  and saw a cold and lonely vista, a soft snowfall only half-melted covering the ground. A road stretched nearby, a ribbon of dirt different from the rest.He doesn’t remember this place. He doesn’t remember anything. His head feels…“Empty.”----Come along for a self-indulgent journey that gives a what-if on the path Mollymauk might take if he awakes with no memories on the side of the road.





	1. Empty Awakenings

**Author's Note:**

> This is planned to be about five or six chapters as of right now. Finally glad to get this idea out onto paper now that it's been swimming around for about two weeks. This is self-indulgent on my end since I didn't want the narrative of Molly to end that way but Clay is pretty cool so I'm kinda hoping something along these lines ends up happening in canon. Anyways first fic in a while, and first on Ao3 so hopefully someone enjoys this.

It was nearly dusk when the pile of loose dirt began to shift, bits and pieces falling to the side as they left the spots they had rested in for the last few hours. Slowly, slowly bits of lavender flesh began to appear through the topsoil, a few fingertips at first, joined by the rest of a hand a minute later. It was a tired struggle these pieces of flesh made, tinged with desperation until they finally exposed a face with a mouth that gulped in the cold air greedily. Red eyes stared emptily at the rose-tinged sky, drinking in the sight before the early wind of winter gusted a piece of gaudy fabric into his vision and shook him from his pause. 

His hands worked to free himself from the cold dirt, throwing clumps away until they could find enough purchase to pull his top half out of the hole he had found himself in. He looked, eyes searching,  and saw a cold and lonely vista, a soft snowfall only half-melted covering the ground. A road stretched nearby, a ribbon of dirt different from the rest. 

He doesn’t remember this place. He doesn’t remember anything. His head feels…

“Empty.”

He realized with a start that the noise he had heard was his own voice. Even that appeared to be something he did not remember. 

The lavender tiefling set back to work freeing themselves from the hole as at least that was a goal they could see set before them. It was while he twisted his body back and forth to help loosen it from the dirt that a sheaf of paper fell from where it had been tucked into his shirt, making a soft crinkle when it hit the ground. Pausing, he picked up the paper, studying the elegant script that scrawled across it.

_ In case you wake up, you find friends that can help in Zadash. It is about two weeks of travel away. Ask for the Gentleman at the Evening Nip. He will help you find us. Your name is Mollymauk Tealeaf. You picked it yourself, and it suits you. Please return to us. _

His forehead knotted together as he tried to make sense of the note. It seemed that he had found himself in this position before, awakening from a hole in the ground with no memories. But at least he knew his name now. 

Tucking the note back into his shirt, he finished pulling himself out of the hole. He noticed a silver and blue piece of fabric mixed into the dirt and with a tug he pulled it free. It was a gaudy piece of fabric with a large silver dragon on it, large enough to wrap around himself. At least it would help keep him warm in the chilly weather. Two swords also came out of the dirt with the fabric, trapped in its folds. Hopefully his body would remember how to use them if his mind couldn’t.

He stood up on shaky feet, feeling drained in a way that made him just want to sleep for days. There was a tightness and an ache in his chest that felt abnormal. Looking down there was an angry gash, halfway healed. Something in the back of his head hinted that a wound like this should be lethal. In a panic he realized that the hole he had dug himself out of had been a grave, that he had died. And yet…..

He was alive. 

“How?” he choked out, throat dry and raspy. “Why?”

Silence greeted him, the chill wind cruel as it cut against his cheeks. He wouldn’t find anymore answers here. 

Something brushed against his back and he nearly jumped out of his own skin. Turning around however, the thing was just a coat, gaudy and mutli-colored but still just a coat. Had this been his? Had he worn such a bright and colorful thing? Still it would be another piece against the cold, so carefully he worked it off the stick it hung on before slipping it on. The tapestry that had been in the hole with him joined on top, making him into a gaudy mess. 

A few stumbled steps took him to the road. Two weeks travel the note had said. But it hadn’t said which way. Turning his head this way and that for a few minutes, he flipped a coin in his head and set off down the road, determined to find a way back to the people who could tell him who Mollymauk was.


	2. Traveling Moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to come out a few days ago. The next chapter should be up relatively sooner.

Molly stumbled down the road for a few hours, not meeting a single soul on his way to ask if he was going the right way. The sky had turned dark as he walked, the sun quickly slipping down below the horizon. The cold had hit then and Molly wasn’t sure that if he stopped moving in this weather if he would end up moving ever again. So he had kept going along the road as the stars twinkled above him and the moon lit his way.

 

A mile or two later he saw a fleck of light further up the road. Pushed on by the possibility of aid or information he found extra strength within himself to keep going down the road. As he got closer, he saw the light was a campfire set just off the road, a cloaked man tending to it. Some bedrolls had been set around it and a mule was tethered to a nearby tree, a tiny unhitched cart close to it. 

 

“Hello there!” The man called out to Molly as he came near. He appeared elderly with vibrant green eyes that glowed in the firelight. “Odd to see someone traveling this late at night.”

 

“Y-yes,” Molly croaked out, stepping towards the campfire. 

“Are you feeling alright there, boy?” the old man asked with some concern. “Come rest your bones here, you look like you could use a break.”

 

Molly hobbled up to the fire, sitting down on the opposite side of the fire from the old man. 

 

“So what’s someone like you traveling alone this late at night?” the old man questioned as he stoked the fire. “Not a brigand, are you?”

 

“No,” Molly shook his head, the jewelry around his horns tinkling. At least he didn’t think he was. 

 

“Well, that’s good,” the man laughed. “The name’s Kristoff. And this here is my granddaughter Selene.”

 

Kristoff motioned to the child that was curled up tight against him, staring silently at Molly with the pryingness that only children’s eyes could achieve. She had hidden herself under a blanket, clutching it around her with ghostly pale hands, which had caused Molly to miss her when he had first come upon the man. 

 

“She’s a bit of a shy thing,” Kristoff ruffled the blanket that covered her head. “Not much of a talker I’m afraid.”

 

“I’m…” he paused, trying to remember the name the note had given him. “Mollymauk.”

 

“Mollymauk, huh?” the old man grinned. “That’s an unusual name. Kind of fits your appearance though, I must say.”

 

Molly glanced again at his skin. It was an unusual color wasn’t it? Especially compared to the man and his granddaughter. He had a tail and horns too, something these other people lacked. How unusual was he? “I guess...I am a bit strange.”

 

“Most folks don’t like strange,” Kristoff shrugged. “They think it’s scary. I’ve found in my time it’s the normal looking folk that are the scariest.”

 

He couldn’t help but smile at the old man’s words. They felt comforting, as if he were talking to an old friend. His eyes drooped, the exhaustion of the day pressing down on him tenfold since he stepped into the campfire’s warm embrace. 

 

“You look pretty tired there, friend,” Kristoff observed, stoking the fire once more. “Why don’t you go ahead and borrow my bedroll there for a few hours? Just a quick bit of rest before you carry on.”

 

Molly found himself nodding along to his words, already laying down on the bedroll before the man had finished his suggestion. In what must have been seconds, he found himself asleep.

\--

 

Molly dreamt of voices, of dirt in his lungs, of a pain that had blossomed bright and hot in his chest. He dreamt of faces he didn’t recognize, towns he was sure he had never visited, of a tavern in a place he had never been to. He sat at a table in his dreams, tarot cards spread out before him, their backs to him. Across the table sat two figures, what appeared to be a man and a woman. The masculine figure was mostly hidden by a cloak of deep green, his face obscured by the hood except for a pair of verdant green eyes. The woman was youthful, though her hair was a shocking white. She wore a simple dress that did little to hide her pale blue skin, and her eyes were as silver as moonlight.

 

“Mollymauk Tealeaf,” the masculine figure spoke, his voice silky. “The threads of fate have been altered in your favor.”

 

He drew a card from the table, showing the face to Molly. The Hanged Man looked at him before the card changed into a black raven feather.

 

“We struck a deal for your sake, to give you another chance in this world. Unfortunately we could not bring you back completely intact.” 

 

“We have faith you will regain that which is lost one day,” the woman smiled at him. 

 

Molly opened his mouth to speak, to ask who these two were but no words could come out.

 

“Take your time, child,” Molly imagined the man grinning. “Travel, find yourself once more. When you are ready, so will they be.”

 

Molly shook his head, trying to understand what he was being told.

 

“Don’t fret,” the woman soothed, her shadowy hands reaching out to grasp one of his. “We wish we could do more for you, but this was what was in our power to achieve.”

 

Molly could begin to feel himself slipping away, a gentle warmth on his chin beckoning him to wakefulness.

 

“I saw what you did, trying to help her,” there was a sad timber to the man’s voice. “She didn’t need to grieve you after all she’s gone through.”

 

“If you find yourself lost,” the woman smiled at him. “Just follow the moonlight.”

 

\--

 

Molly awoke to the morning sun on his face and a deserted campsite. Gone was the mule, and the cart it had carried. Gone too were Kristoff and his granddaughter. The campfire was burning low, as if it had received the last of its fuel some time ago. A decent sized pack remained behind, set next to his head, as well as the bedroll he had fallen asleep on. 

 

He checked himself as he sat up, but found none of his possessions missing. Instead he had found a new necklace in his grasp, made up of a string of leather and a silver pendant. On one side was etched with what looked like an unstringed harp or perhaps a very simple bow, flanked by an arrow on the top and bottom. The other side showed an archway with a path beyond it. He examined it in confusion, going over his dream in his head. This whole encounter had been very strange, even if he really couldn’t put a claim on what normal was. 

 

After a minute’s ponder, he looked into the knapsack to find it full of provisions and gear for travel, including a small pouch of gold and silver coins. There was even a full water skein that had been strapped to it. Two leather straps were sewn onto the bottom, looking just long enough to hold a rolled up bedroll. Had the old man left this behind? If so, why hadn’t he simply woken him?

 

“I didn’t ask him which way Zadash was,” Molly realized forlornly. 

 

He ate a bit of the dried meat he found in the pack before smoldering the fire and rolling up what was now apparently his bedroll. Gathering his new things, he looked once more to the road and wondered if he should keep going the way he had. He fiddled with his new necklace, noticing that the light of the sun only seemed to reflect off the side with the bow and arrows. An odd feature, he found himself musing. 

 

“No point going back, I guess,” Molly stepped out onto the road, continuing on away from the grave he had climbed out of. He would make it to Zadash, even if it took him a little extra time.


	3. Faded Ties

Molly traveled for days on the lonely road, rarely spotting another soul. Occasionally a caravan would pass by him, laden with goods for trade, the drivers always looking agitated and nervous. He had asked those that would listen if he was on the right road to Zadash and so far it seemed that he was from what little reply he had been given as they hurried down the road away from him. 

 

He had come across a few crossroads on his travels, helplessly unmarked. He still didn’t even have a vague idea about which direction he was traveling in, let alone which direction Zadash was in. Sometimes he would sit at the crossroads for a few hours, waiting for another traveler to come by. He would fiddle with his new necklace, watching which way the sunlight glinted off of it. Often, he choose which path to travel down based on which one the light shone on.

 

When it became too dark to travel, he would make camp a little ways off the road most nights. There was something about traveling alone that his subconscious told him was quite dangerous, and he had indeed not met a single solo traveler. He tried to only light small fires and sleep in places that weren’t visible from the road. He even met a spot of danger from some bandits that had almost surprised him only to have them run screaming from him, shouting about how they didn’t want to end up like Trevor. Their reaction had confused him, as well as a few pairs of pants some had left behind. Perhaps he had indeed had an encounter with them in the past, one that he could no longer remember. Still he had welcomed the few coins he had found amongst their abandoned trousers, knowing that he would need to buy more provisions when he finally came upon a town.

 

Soldiers had also crossed Molly’s path in his travels, full battalions of armored knights and battlemages marching eastwards. For some reason the sight of them made him nervous and he always gave way to them when he crossed paths with them, wrapping the tapestry tight around him to deflect some attention from him. He found himself wondering why he dressed so ostentatiously. It’d have to be something he asked these friends of his when he found them.

 

Molly eventually came across a small town, with walls that were barely six feet. It was a tiny farming village but it had a small inn and a place to buy food at least. He spent a few silvers on a room and a hot meal, enjoying tastes he wasn’t sure he had tasted before. He didn’t stay long downstairs, noticing how much staring he received. There was also something that felt wrong to him, sitting alone at a table and nursing a pint of ale. In the morning, he asked the barkeep for directions.

 

“I’ve not gone there meself,” the elderly plump women had answered. “It should be to the West from what I recall. About two weeks on foot if the roads are good and they never are.”

 

Molly had thanked the woman before heading to the few shops in town. He was just looking over some dried meats when he heard the voice of a strangely hoarse child call out to him.

 

“Molly!” the tiny girl yelled at him, running up and hugging his leg. “I haven’t seen you in so long!”

 

He froze, the handful of salted pork he had been thinking of buying held aloft, unsure what to do now that someone had recognized him. The girl was tiny, dwarvish in stature, with two blonde braids. She smiled up at him, before it faded a few moments later as she noted his shocked expression. 

 

“Are you okay, Molly?” the girl asked, hands slipping loose from his thigh. “Where’s the others you were with?”

 

“Toya?” A woman called.

 

“Over here!”

 

“Why did you run--oh,” the woman who had called for the child looked at him with recognition but he could not place her. Her face, dark and fiery, was as foreign to him as any other in this town. “Didn’t think we’d run into you again this soon.”

 

“I’m-,” Molly felt himself begin to stutter, his tail swishing behind him nervously. “I’m sorry but I don’t think I remember you.”

 

He expected a reaction from the two women, maybe some offense or questioning. He didn’t expect them to exchange a knowing look, one that spoke of concern and pity.

 

“You lost them again, didn’t you?” the older questioned.

 

Molly tilted his head.

 

“You lost your memories,” the young girl, Toya, stated.

 

“This has happened before?” Molly felt something dense and cold settle in his stomach. Though it would explain the note he had been left. Those he was with had expected him to wake up with an empty head.

 

“Why don’t you come with us?” the older woman offered. “It might take some time to explain.”

 

Molly nodded, abandoning the goods he had thought about purchasing to follow the two who seemed to have the answers he suddenly found himself needing with an intensity that surprised him.

 

\---

 

He ended up following the two outside the town’s walls to their makeshift campsite. It was a simple affair, with a central fire surrounded by a small tent and a covered wagon. A green-skinned half-orc was pacing around the fire, occasionally stirring a pot that was boiling away. Molly felt sure that he had never seen this man before either though something about the color of his skin made something tickle at the back of his mind. 

 

“Bo!” Toya called out in her hoarse voice when they got nearer. “Look who we found!”

 

The half-orc turned at her call, looking between the girls before his eyes locked on Molly. There was instant recognition when he took in the lavender tiefling, a giant smile taking over his face. There had been no hesitation, no phoniness to his reaction. It made Molly feel more at ease, around this group though he knew that these were not the people he was supposed to find.

 

“Molly!” Bo called out, arms opening in greeting, the spoon in his hand splattering stew over the ground. “It’s good to see you.”

 

He tried to respond to the half-orc but the words caught on his tongue. It wasn’t like he could truly answer back that it was good to see him as well. Instead he smiled nervously, stopping at the very edge of the camp.

 

The half-orc tilted his head in confusion, arms lowering slowly. He looked as if he were about to speak again when Orna, he had learnt her name on the way to camp, spoke instead, “he doesn’t remember you Bo.”

 

“What?” there was a joking smile on his face, as if he knew that a prank was being played upon him. “He didn’t forget us in just a month’s time.”

 

“Remember when we found him? I think something like it happened again.”

 

“Then what about Yasha?” Bo tried to ask quietly, eyes darting between Orna and Molly.

 

“I hadn’t gotten around to asking him about her yet.”

 

Molly shifted from foot to foot, nervous that these people knew things about himself that he did not. 

 

“I- I can tell you what I know,” Molly offered. “If you could maybe tell me about myself.

 

“Yeah,” Bo responded gently, scratching the back of his head. “Yeah, we can do that.”

 

“Let’s come and sit by the fire,” Orna smiled reassuringly at him. “We can talk over some food.”

 

\---

 

They talked for what felt like hours, Molly telling them about everything that had happened since he awoke. He had shown them the note, reluctant as he was to let it leave his grasp, especially this close to fire. Finally he had displayed the jagged wound that marred his chest, different in shape and scale from the seemingly thousands of other scars that mottled his lavender skin. It had nearly finished healing in the days since his awakening though he had found parts of it to still be tender and abnormally hot to the touch.

 

In return he had gotten fragments and pieces of his past. Apparently he had been found by the circus they had all previously been a part of, on the side of the road, also freshly dug out from his own grave. He had had no memory of his past then as well. It had taken him months then to find the ability to speak again, Toya proudly stating that she had helped him the most to find his voice. He had become a loud and brash performer and hypeman for the troupe, bringing attention to the circus through his garish coat and appearance. His past self had gripped life with such ferocity that he had been a beacon of joy when otherwise the group would have cast themselves in sorrow. 

 

They told him about Yasha, the companion that had joined the troupe around six months prior and who had left with him when the old circus had been dissolved. Molly had tried her name on his tongue when they had spoken it and found that he had no trouble repeating it, as if his tongue and lips had formed those sounds before a thousand times prior. It was this woman and the rest of the grab-bag group that had helped those of the circus not meet a grisly end by the hangman’s noose, that were undoubtedly the ones who had left him that note.

 

“So how far away from Zadash am I now?” Molly asked as the sun started to set, Toya yawning to his right. 

 

Bo shook his head back and forth in thought, drawing on his mental map of the world that he had created over his lifetime. “Maybe three weeks to a month on foot? The roads that’ll take you directly there are pretty treacherous, especially when you’re on your own.”

 

Molly clenched his fists in frustration, his tail curling and uncurling. He had hoped he’d been walking in the right direction but instead he had doubled the amount of time it would take him. He almost jumped when a hand landed on his shoulder.

 

“Why don’t you come with us for a bit?” Orna offered. “It’s better to travel in numbers and it’ll let you get your head in order. When we get closer to Zadash then you can head off on your own again.”

 

Molly hesitated, mulling the idea over. His hands fiddled with the strange necklace he had obtained that first morning, watching where the light reflected from it. It was dim this time, only having the twisting light from the campfire to use as its reflection, but it kept hitting the wagon and nowhere else.

 

“Yeah,” Molly agreed quietly. “Yeah, that should be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated!


	4. Breadcrumbs

The caravan traveled slow but steady through the Marrow Valley, criss-crossing along a patchwork of paths and roads, some that had gone untraveled for years, still barely carved through the grasslands and forests. They would stop at each little village and hamlet, sometimes for a day, sometimes for almost a week depending on the reception they received to their acts. Always, they set up camp outside the towns, knowing that while their acts might be tolerated during the day, the composition of their group would not be tolerated inside the walls were the good and honest folk slept. 

 

They were no longer a circus anymore, no tent to set up, no tickets to sell. Instead they were now street performers, showing off their talents for a few generous coins. Orna had scowled when she explained how they made their way through the world now, knowing how much their performances used to be worth but this was the path fate had brought them to and she could either grasp it or find some other calling in life. 

 

It was when they had talked to him about possibly performing his own act that they had discovered that he was missing one of his past self’s possessions - a pack of tarot cards, beautifully illustrated, that he had acquired from a shop of curiosities when he had first begun to speak again.

 

“Well I guess you won’t  be reading fortunes without them,” Orna had grumbled. “Let’s think of something else someone as flashy as you can do.”

 

Bo had tried to teach him to juggle after that, but Molly didn’t quite take to it. He had also shrank at the idea of being their collective hypeman, still not feeling as confident as they expected him to be. Instead he would be their bodyguard, guarding their tipping bowls from greedy hands. Every once in awhile he’d attempt some sword tricks but that was usually looked down upon by the crownsguard.

 

Molly had fallen into the rhythm of the troupe, finding comfort in the steady companionship and the stories of his past self that the group were eager to offer to him. It was only when Toya had offered to braid his growing hair that Molly noticed how the months had come and gone since he had taken up with them and the note itched terribly against his heart. 

 

\---

 

The caravan came to one of the largest towns since Molly had joined up with them. It was a town that appeared to be split into two halves, with yards of industry at ground level and a whole residential are perched on top of a wide shelf of a cliff. It was a solemn, busy-looking town and Molly doubted that they would make any coin from such serious townsfolk who looked fully engrossed in their business of constructing war machinery.

 

He had been told about the ongoing war that the Dwendalian Empire was staging against Xhorhas to the east. It had explained all the soldiers he had seen on march when he had been wandering alone. The campaign appeared to still be ongoing and so Bo had been careful to not take them too far eastwards. Still they had somehow ended up here, at what could only be called the central armory of the empire, in a place crawling with guards both local and imperial. 

“This place?” Molly questioned. “Really? I doubt we’ll make even a copper here.”

 

Bo laughed, steering the caravan through the main thoroughfare of the yard. “It doesn’t look like much now, but wait until the sun goes down.”

 

“What happens then?” Toya asked in turn, peeking her head out of one of the window’s in the caravan. 

 

“I don’t think there are words that can describe it,” the half-orc nodded to a crownsguard as they climbed up the path to the shelf. “Besides I don’t think I wanna ruin the surprise of Hupperdook’s night life.”

 

Bo had eventually parked their little caravan next to an inn. It was only noon, still quite a few hours from sunset and that had left Molly with some time to kill. He had considered just joining Bo in the inn for a pint or two but something told him to look around a bit, curious about this strange town where he towered above most of the population. 

 

He wandered the streets, window shopping a bit here and there. The local population mostly looked at him with annoyance as they flittered here and there, no one taking a leisurely pace in this frantic city. He had gotten far too used to the odd stares and disdain his appearance brought, so he kept his casual pace, moving through the streets with a calm indifference to the furtive hustle around him. 

 

The streets of the city soon became a maze the further he traveled, the noise of commerce and industry falling away in favor of domestic simplicity and children’s laughter. He found that he liked these calm pockets of towns, where things moved at a slower pace. There was fewer new things in these spots and he enjoyed the lack of sensual overload that it came with. 

 

A happy trill sounded when he turned a corner and he saw what appeared to be a little black human-like bird suddenly dash for him, leaving behind a pack of gnomish children who were playing in the street. It jumped excitedly at his feet, wings outstretching in excitement. 

 

“If you find him, if you find him!” the bird spoke to him, weirdly in a male voice with a strong Zemnian accent. 

 

“Aren’t you a cute thing?” Molly smiled at the little bird child, kneeling down to their level. “Who are you trying to find? One of your friends?”

 

The bird nodded, whistling and clicking before responding in a timid woman’s voice, “Mr. Mollymauk.”

 

“Oh, me?” Molly began with a grin before he paused. “I didn’t tell you my name.”

 

“Didn’t tell you my name,” the bird child mimicked back to him in his own voice. 

 

“You mimic people, huh?” Molly scrunched up his face as his brain tried to make sense of this unexpected encounter. “Someone’s told you to look for me?”

 

The bird child nodded, “The Mighty Nein!” 

 

Molly felt the note itch against his chest again, his fingers going to twist and turn his pendant anxiously. “Have we met before, uh?”

 

“I am Kiri,” the voice of a girl with a foreign accent Molly could not place this time came out of the little bird. 

 

“Right, Kiri,” Molly ran a hand through his hair. “I lost my memory some time ago. Did I meet you before now?”

 

A nod.

 

“Was I with a group when I was with you before?”

 

Another nod.

 

“Was I -” Molly shook his head. “Did they tell you to keep an eye out for me?”

 

This time Kiri nodded enthusiastically, here two feathery hands grabbing one of his his, leading him towards the other children. As they got close, a few of the gnomish children suddenly saw who the little bird had been talking to, a noise of happy alarm spreading amongst them. 

 

“It’s him!”

 

“Oi, it’s Mr. Mollymauk!”

 

He was soon surrounded by a pack of gnomish children who led him to a small nearby house tucked behind a shop. They all but pushed him inside as the oldest of them went to retrieve a small bundle that had been tucked up into the rafters. 

 

“They said if we saw you come through here to give this to you,” the boy stated as he handed the cloth-wrapped bundle to Molly. “They said they’ve been leaving these bundles around since they started hearing of a lavender tiefling in a gaudy coat traveling the Marrow Valley.”

 

With bated breath Molly shakily unwrapped the bundle, spreading out its contents on the low table near the hearth. A small coin pouch with a few gold pieces, a shiny button, a pressed flower, and a letter made up the small package. He touched the fragile dried flower with care before picking up the letter.

  
  


_ Molly- _

 

_ You can still find us through the Gentleman at the Evening Nip in Zadash. We miss you and love you very much. And if you don’t remember us it’s okay, we just want to know that you are fine. _

 

_ -The Mighty Nein _

 

The script was loopy and feminine and there was a drawing of Kiri in one corner. Below the note was a crude map, showing the way from Hupperdook to Zadash.

 

“Are you okay, mister?” one of the younger children asked, pulling on his coat sleeve. He tried to look down at her to find his vision slightly blurry.

 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he assured, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I guess I just didn’t realize I was taking too much time getting back to them.”

 

\---

 

Molly parted ways from the troupe three days after they had left Hupperdook, his pack hoisted onto his shoulders as they said their goodbyes at the crossroads. Toya had cried a little at the parting but Orna and Bo had given looks of reluctant acceptance.

 

“Just don’t go losing your memories again, okay?” Bo had chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder.

 

Molly had waved to them as they traveled along the road away from him, before turning and heading towards Zadash, the walls of the city barely visible in the distance. It took him the better part of the day to reach the bustling metropolis. 

 

He was nearly overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and smell of so many people collected together in one place, walking the streets like he was caught in an undertow, looking for calmer waters to stop and ask for directions. He found his breath of air in a small inn, where the innkeep had happily given him directions to the Evening Nip for a few silvers slid across the counter. Back into the tide he went, managing to make his way to the nearly empty bar, thankful for its quietness. 

 

He felt anxious in the pit of his stomach. He had made it here, to Zadash, to the Evening Nip. With measured steps he approached the barkeep, a harsh-looking bloke whose best years lay two decades behind him.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for-” he began, only to be interrupted by the man. 

 

“I’ve seen ya before,” he grumbled off, waving his dirty dish cloth at him. He led him to a storage room, pulling a small chain to reveal a trap door. “You’ll find him down there.”

 

Molly nodded to the man, carefully making his way down the spiral staircase, his tail helping him keep his balance through the tight turn. Eventually the stairs spit him out into another bar, this one loud and full of commotion. Dozens filled the tables, clinking their glasses while they drank themselves silly. A young woman sat at the bar, her legs kicked up on an adjacent stool as she lazily plucked at a harp. 

 

A loud cheer mixed with the pain of losing a bet drew his attention to a table in the back. It was a table notably different from the others in the underground bar, made of well-carved mahogany and worth more than the rest of the furniture put together. Sitting at that table in a high-backed chair of a similar craftsmanship as the table sat a blue-skinned man with long raven hair, smirking as he lazily gathered his winnings from the table. He tossed a gold back at the man who was dwelling in his lost wealth before he saw Molly.

 

“Ah, welcome again to a lost friend!” he bellowed a greeting, standing up with arms spread. “Come here, come here.”

 

Molly clenched the strap of his pack in his hands as he followed the beckoning attitude of the man. “I assume you must be The Gentleman?”

 

The man smiled, patting Molly on his shoulder in what was supposed to be a friendly manner but came off far from it somehow. “Why, yes. Though the fact that you had to ask meant that your friends were right to believe you’d lost your memory.”

 

“Yeah,” Molly nodded, scratching the back of his head subconsciously. “They were good enough to leave me a note. Said if I came here that you’d be able to help me find them.” 

 

“Indeed I can,” he smiled, his hand motioning for the barkeep to bring them drinks. “Though I’m afraid to say it might not be as soon as you are undoubtedly hoping. I asked them to take care of some business for me and I don’t expect them back for at least another week.”

 

“Oh,” Molly felt himself deflate, even as a cold pint of beer was pushed into his hand. It made sense that his friends weren’t the most stationary of people but he had hoped that they would be here when he arrived.

 

“That being said, the adorable blue little tiefling they has always sends me a message when they’re on their way back to town. I’ll be able to tell them then that you’ve finally arrived.”

 

“That sounds...very good,” Molly nodded, drinking from his ale. “I haven’t found a place to stay yet so should I just come back here to check every day?”

 

“Well, if you don’t have a place to stay,” The Gentleman’s smooth voice washed over Molly as he pivoted in a way that brought him closer to the lavender tiefling. “Why don’t you stay here? We’ve got a few spare beds. You could just help tend the bar as payment.”

 

Even with the gold he had obtained in Hupperdook, he knew that his coin purse was closer to empty than full. He could afford an inn and meals for a few days but not for the projected week that he had been told. Reluctantly, he nodded. 

 

“Good. Kara will show you around then.” 

 

The Gentleman called for the woman who had been plucking at the harp. Molly followed her, praying in the back of his head that his friends would return soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter will be up in a few days. Kudos and comments are always appreciated.


	5. Road's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work will now be part of a series, more details at the end.

It only took three days for Molly to regret agreeing to stay at the Evening Nip. He could have probably afforded a cheap inn and some gruel. Well now he definitely could after he had tried his hand at the card table with some of the tips he had earned working the bar. It was easy to keep a straight face when he was still learning how to express himself still.  But ultimately there were two people that were making his days at the underground bar unbearably long and difficult.

The first was a dark-haired tabaxi by the name of Cree. She had greeted him not as Mollymauk but as Lucien. She was insistent on talking to him, something he didn’t think he would mind but she ignored his constant pleas that he had no memory of her or of being Lucien. She had tried every talking point she had to get him to confess that his amnesiac state was nothing but a ploy to have others believe he wasn’t Lucien. It was with a great relief to Molly that Cree had been sent out on her own mission for The Gentleman, taking with her her questioning.

The second person was The Gentleman himself. It seemed almost fitting that the man had been born a water genasi, the slipperiness of his appearance fitting the slippery and unnerving impression of the man. He ruled over his probably criminal empire with the look of a man who felt that he held all the cards at the end of the day despite any possible hiccups. He spent his days playing cards but his nights - and most of his mornings - were spent in the arms of many temporary lovers. Some had been brought for him down from the streets of Zadash. Pretty, lithe things who were too willing to fall for the thick charm he laid upon them. Some, though, had been picked out of the patrons of the bar, young and yet unblemished in the face, thinking that this was a quicker way to status and wealth in this proxy empire. More than once, Molly had felt those predatory eyes fall on him, despite his scars and tattoos. How long would his stay here require him to spend a night The Gentleman’s bed?

Six days appeared to be the answer to that question at first when the gentleman had beckoned to him when he had returned to the Evening Nip after he had taken a short foray aboveground. He had been missing the sunlight and had spent a few hours wandering the city, taking in the vibrant city in a dose that his mind could handle processing. The joy from venturing above seemed to slip away when he saw the beckoning smile of the man on his created throne. Still he knew that he had cast his dice already and so he answered the summons.

“I have good news for you, my friend,” he grinned at Molly, gesturing grandly with one of his hands. “Your friends have finished their mission and are returning to Zadash as we speak.”

Molly’s joy quickly came flooding back to him and he knew there must be some sappy smile plastered over his face. “Were you able to tell them that I was here?” 

“Yes, I was,” the Gentleman replied in a saccharine voice. “Though it almost cost me my hearing when I got the next message.”

“So they’ll be here soon?”

The Gentleman appeared to do some mental math, one finger waving about. “They were already a day on the road back and if they go at the speed I expect them to be going, they’ll be back...two, maybe three days?”

“A few more days,” Molly grinned to himself. And they were excited to see him. He could only hope that they would be fine with his lack of memory. Hopefully he would be similar enough to his old self for their liking.”

  
  


\---

 

Molly slept fitfully over the next two nights, excitement and nervousness plaguing his usually empty head with worried thoughts. He couldn’t possibly be the same person they had buried in the ground. That someone had remembered them, whereas he knew he’d have trouble picking out which one was the Yasha that Ornna and the others had told him about. He could perhaps emulate the Molly that the traveling troupe had told him about but in the long run he wouldn’t be able to full them. 

It was the restlessness of his thoughts that had seen him sat at the bar counter early in the morning on the second day, nursing a cup of ale like it was his morning coffee. It was quiet at this hour in the Evening Nip, only the snores of the drunks who had passed out in their cups the night before breaking the quiet. It made the sound of numerous thundering footsteps hurrying down the spiral staircase all that much louder to his ears, making him step away from the bar, a hand resting on one of his swords in case The Gentleman’s brash confidence had cost him his safehouse. 

Two blurs spewed forth from the staircase, followed quickly by a third, all caught in a mad dash for him. He attempted to step backwards only for one to catch him tightly around the waist while the other, smaller blur found a hold on his leg. 

“He said you’d come back to us,” the larger blur, now apparently a blue tiefling to his sight cried into his shoulder, her voice one that he remembered the bird child Kiri using. “He promised, he promised, said he had to prove to you that he wasn’t bullshit.” 

The blue tiefling clutched him tighter and he found himself petting her hair out of instinct in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. The other being attached to his leg appeared to be a little girl at first but then he saw yellow eyes and green skin peaking out at him from beneath gray rags and bandages. She clutched his leg tightly as if he were a ghost that would disappear from her sight. “We rushed back when we heard you finally made it here.”

“You fucking asshole,” a brash woman in blue monk robes was suddenly to his right, joining into the bonecrushing hug above the goblin. “Why’d you make us wait so long?”

And then he was consoling all three, the emotional toll pulling them into a pile on the floor, the weight of the situation suddenly appearing physically as they cried into his clothes. 

“I’m sorry,” he answered quietly, wishing his brain would remember them as much as they remembered him. Still, why did his heart ache so for them? “I didn’t mean to take so long.”

Two men approached more calmly. The green half-orc gave a friendly wave, obviously trying to remain stoic but unable to hide the tears that hung in the corners of his eyes like dew. The other man, a ginger human in a large brown coat - cleaner than he should be his brain suddenly supplied - gave a warm smile and he found an orange tabby cat suddenly added to the emotional pile of bodies he was wrapped in.

“It is good to see you, Mr. Mollymauk.”

Molly paused, warmth blossoming in his chest at the words spoken to him in a soft Zemnian accent. “It...it is indeed.”

Another person stepped forward and Molly found a way to extricate himself from the pile of girls, compelled somehow towards the giant, muscled woman who made her way towards him with hesitant steps, eyes locked on him in a way that pierced through his very existence. Molly reached out for her, tears beginning to fall from his eyes as he remembered her, as he remembered his best friend, as he remembered...

“Yasha.”

He sobbed into her, smelling the familiar smells of leather and oil and dried flowers that hung about her as her strong arms enveloped him. Black hair hung around him like a comforting curtain and his heart ached with the happiness of reunion. He felt her hot tears fall on his shoulder and then came the plaintive plea that had made him wish he had run all the way to Zadash, “Please don’t leave my like that again.”

“Never,” he promised, finally pulling back, wiping his tears first before dabbing at hers. He looked around at his friends, at all of them, names filling his head to match with faces. “I remember now, I remember all of you. I didn’t for so long.”

“It’s okay,” Nott spoke, pulling down the scarf that now covered her face, the doll mask no longer part of her dress. “All that matters is that we found each other again.”

Molly’s eyes looked long at hard at each of them, noting differences from his new found memory to how his friend’s currently appeared. “I’ve missed so much.”

“We’ll fill you in,” Fjord chuckled good-naturedly. “It’s the least we can do.”

“Yes, yes,” Jester agreed in her natural exuberance, bouncing to her feet. “Oh, and you must meet Caddy!” 

“Caddy?” Molly tilted his head, jewelry tinkling before he finally noticed that another had come down with his friends, standing a bit behind Fjord and Caleb and towering over both of them.

“Hello,” the gray firbolg greeted lazily with a smile, his hair a shocking shade of pink. 

“What is with all this commotion?” An exasperated voice called out into the bar. The Gentleman exited his room with narrowed eyes, barely clad and looking like he had just awoken. “I haven’t even started on my breakf- oh, a happy reunion?”

Jester nodded vigorously. “Very much so, yes.”

“I’m delighted for you. However, I must ask that you take this excitement somewhere else at this hour.” The Gentleman made a shooing motion with his hands. “Return later today and I’ll have your payment for you.”

“Leaky Tap?” Beau offered to a few nods of agreement. 

Up top on the bright morning streets of Zadash, Molly grasped Yasha’s hand in his. There was much to talk about and a new friend to properly meet awaiting him but he had finally come home to his family. And he was never letting go of them again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking to the end. This fic brought me out of a writing slump so it's been a nice experience for me. So, yes this will be turning into a series. I'm not sure when the next entry will be out and whether that will be a multi-chapter entry or just a long one-shot but I have started writing it. Again comments and kudos are greatly appreciated and much loved!


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